


For the Love of Family

by Rubyhunny



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Conversations, Gen, Teasing, The Arya/Gendry is background, post 8x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 17:53:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18856063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubyhunny/pseuds/Rubyhunny
Summary: "Winterfell is my home and I will act as it’s Lady until you or Bran marry, and that woman takes over.  But there is almost no scenario in which I get to stay here for the rest of my days and to be the Lady of the castle."Jon Snow is tired and battle wary.  So are his sisters. Apparently exhaustion loosens the tongue because finds himself asking his sister a question he has no business asking.





	For the Love of Family

**Author's Note:**

> This is set after 8x03. After the battle but before the feast. I find it hard to believe that they fought that night, bathed and burned the bodies the next morning and then feasted all without sleep so this is a bit more spread out. Mostly Jon's POV since we haven't seen a lot of that lately.

Jon is directing the men as to the bare minimum that needs to be done before they can retire for the night. Sansa is close by, no more than a stone’s throw away, directing those from the crypts as to the placement of blankets and the delivery of food. Others are about, following orders, seeing to the wounded, and trying to find family members. 

It is, to be sure, a mess.

Jon hasn’t seen Arya or Bran since they returned to the castle, but he knows they are about somewhere as he can hear the soft clicking wheels of Bran’s chair against the cobblestone and his sister’s fierce growl.

After things start to clear out those who have found their families have begun bedding for the night, and those that haven’t are beginning to do the same though more somberly. Tomorrow will be a long day they know; filled with burning bodies, blood, exhaustion, and ale. 

The thought of the ale is all that will get some of them through. 

As more and more people leave to find a place to sleep off the battle Gendry walks up to start asking some question or another. Jon supposes he will never find out what he means to ask though, as he is intercepted by Arya, who literally runs into Gendry’s arms. She jumps up to wrap her legs around him as she kisses him. 

Jon clears his throat in an effort to remind them that they are not alone but when it seems to do nothing he looks back to Sansa for help. She’s blushing as Gendry tumbles backward into the stone wall, but she makes eye contact with Jon and nods as if accepting her task. 

At which point she walks over and grabs Arya by the ear, pulling her away from Gendry. Arya yelps and Gendry groans at the loss.

“What the hell Sansa?” Arya gripes and turns to face her sister, “I just saved the bloody world! Can’t I have a few minutes?”

Sansa looks over to Jon, but he has no idea what to say in this situation. He’s always known that Sansa would eventually have sex, all she ever wanted was to marry and bare children which necessitated it, but he honestly thought Arya would die as celibate as he was supposed to after taking the black. Mayhaps it is just the musings of a much older brother who will always have problems seeing her as an adult. 

Sansa seems to understand that he is uncomfortable and with a roll of the eye says, “Of course you do. Take all the happiness you can get. Just not in the corridor. Especially when it is full of people and you remain unwed.”

Arya’s eyes narrow and Jon thinks he may have to intervene but then Sansa smiles like the little girl he hasn’t seen in almost a decade and continues, “Go to your room. Or my room or Jon’s room or hell, I don’t know, the stables. Though I would pick your room. No one would disturb you there and the bed tends to be easier on the back than a stone wall or a haybale.”

Arya bursts out laughing, as does a still vaguely ill looking Gendry. Jon joins them. 

As Arya grabs Gendry’s hand to pull him away Sansa yells, “Be careful! Don’t get pregnant! I would hate for Jon and I to have to force you down the aisle!”

Arya doesn’t seem to pay heed though Gendry nods at them.

Once their sister has gone Sansa looks to Jon with a raised brow as if daring him to speak.

“Thank you. I’m still not quite sure how to reconcile this adult Arya with the little girl who used to leave snakes in my bed,” He says with a hand on the back of his head.

“It’s alright. I suspect being her big brother is at least as difficult as being her big sister,” She answers with a smile.

For a moment he wonders what their Father, no, no, his uncle, would have said about this. Would he be disappointed in Jon and Sansa for not having stopped Arya from having sex outside of the marriage bed? Jon suspects so but Ned isn’t here, and Arya fought bravely and with a look at Sansa he thinks no one would have stopped a man from doing exactly what his little sister is doing whether he was married or not.

Besides, Sansa has always been the most proper of the Stark siblings and if she doesn’t have a problem with it then who is Jon to talk?

“Wait a second!” He exclaims, “Did you just offer my bed for our little sister to have sex in?” 

Sansa outright laughs. Jon likes the sound.

“Only after I offered mine. Be honest, she’s far more likely to go somewhere else entirely. She cannot bear to be predictable.”

Jon smirks at the thought. 

They continue to work for another few moments before Bran is rolled to them by one of Dani’s men. He holds up his hand to stop him in front of Sansa and Jon.

“I am going on to bed. I wanted to wish you a good night,” he looks to Jon as he says this and there seems to be an agreement not to mention Theon just yet. Sansa knows he passed. Arya had told her first thing after they had opened the crypts. Not to be mean, but to let her know what happened. Both of his sisters it seems prize honesty over sentiment. Still, it doesn’t need to be spoken about just yet.

Then Bran looks to Sansa and says, “I am happy you did not have to fight tonight. Though it may prove useful in the future for Jon to teach you how.”

Confusion hits Jon in the face and he can tell that Sansa is not any less confused than he. Sansa, however, laughs it off, “Me? Fighting? Can you imagine?”

Jon knows Bran doesn’t say things without a purpose. Not anymore. Bran is an even bigger confusion to Jon than this grown up Arya, but he does know that his brother does not say things for no reason at all. If he’s saying it, then Sansa needs to know how to fight.

The weight that has been on his shoulders for the past few years has been lifted and that feels more amazing than just about anything, but Bran’s words remind Jon that there are other battles to fight. Some sooner than later. 

“Actually,” Jon answers, “It may not be a bad idea.”

Sansa gives Jon a look that makes him think that if she weren’t such a well-bred lady she would be snorting.

“What? If I can teach Samwell, I am sure I can teach you,” He starts and then something occurs to him and he teases, “Unless, of course, you are afraid of messing up your braids.”

Sansa simply rolls her eyes and responds, “Not likely. And if you keep it up you just find snakes in your bed again.”

“Wait. That was you?” Jon asks and Sansa laughs but doesn’t answer.

“Good night,” Bran interrupts then, as if bored by their conversation.

They bid him good night and then start to make their own way up the stairs and to bed. His chamber is across from hers. She had taken the Lord’s Chamber as he had pressed her too, however, she had insisted on him taking Robb’s old room. He didn’t know if that was because it is the next biggest room, as intended for the heir or if Sansa just didn’t want him too far away. 

He only thinks this because Arya hadn’t been given the medium sized room she had once shared with her older sister but rather the other large bedroom next to Jon’s that had once belonged to Bran. He suspects Sansa would have put Bran in another room in this hall if he were able, if only to have them all close.

On the stairwell it occurs to him and then a question he has no business asking slips out without thought, “Do you ever think about it?”

“About what?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

“Arya…” He starts but is cut off.

“Are you asking me if I think about sex?” She asks and Jon chokes.

“No, no, no,” He says though coughs.

Sansa laughs heartily and responds, “Good. That would a terrible thing to ask your little sister.”

Jon nearly babbles before he realizes that she’s teasing.

“Har, har, har, very funny,” He teases back.

“I thought so. But to answer your question, yes. Sometimes I do think about it. I don’t want the wedding our sister might have, with you pushing my husband down the aisle with your sword to his back, but I expect I will marry again and bear children. At some point. Do you?”

“Expect to bear children?” He teases her and then laughs and says, “I should like to have a wife someday. Maybe a son named Robb and a daughter whose mission in life it is to give me chest pains.”

Something sad passes over his sister’s face in that moment and Jon is compelled to say, “I’m sure you’ll get those things too. A husband who loves you and children.”

Sansa nods sadly and says, “I sincerely doubt that.”

“Why?” Jon asks feeling dumbstruck. 

“Jon,” Sansa says with that air she sometimes gets, the haughty one that makes Jon feel like she thinks she’s talking to a simpleton, “I’ve been betrothed to and cast aside by the king and married two more times beside. My second husband’s cruelty is legendary, at least in so much that most men must realize that I will not be a good bed companion. That’s not to mention that I fed him to his own dogs or that in those two marriages I bore no children. There aren’t many men who would accept a wife like me even if he loved me, which is unlikely. Besides, now that you are Lord of Winterfell, I do not even have a dowry.”

It takes Jon a few moments to collect his thoughts. What does one say to that? The only thing that comes to mind is, “Sansa, Winterfell is yours.”

She outright laughs at that, “No it isn’t. Oh, do not misunderstand me. Winterfell is my home and I will act as it’s Lady until you or Bran marry, and that woman takes over. But there is almost no scenario in which I get to stay here for the rest of my days and to be the Lady of the castle. My best chance to stay within the walls is to marry a second or third son with no titles or lands, hope that either you or Bran and your wives will allow us to live here, and maybe, if I’m truly lucky, that they will allow my children to be named Stark as Bran cannot have children. That, or having you legitimized, is there only way our house will stand and it’s best if both happen.”

The talk of him being legitimized is a reminder of things he does not want to think about. So, he does not think of them. 

Instead, he thinks that there are moments when he talks to his sister and he sees the girl she used to be, but they are few and far between. There are many more moments that remind him of how much she has changed. This is one of them. 

The girl he grew up with never would have thought of marriage such a way and she never would have preferred a second son over a first. Something about it makes him overwhelmingly sad. So much so that he needs to reach out and touch her face gently. 

She leans into him for just a moment before he says, “You don’t have to marry at all if you don’t want to. But either way Winterfell will always be your home and I will always defend your right to it.”

It isn’t much but it’s all he has. All he can give. 

“Thank you,” She responds gently as Jon’s hand drops down from her face, “But we both know I do not truly have that luxury. Not if our house is to be stable and fruitful again.”

“Then we should have to find you someone Father would have liked. Someone who loves you,” Jon ventures because he’s seen bits and pieces of the little girl he grew up with tonight and that is something she would have liked for her big brother to say. Even if Jon is not truly her brother and never has been. 

But instead of making her smile she backs away and says, “Please do not tease me. Not about this.”

There is a strange sort of hurt in his chest at her words and so he responds coldly, “Do you honestly think I would tease you about this?”

Sansa huffs before she answers, “Jon you used to tease me constantly about this. You, Robb, Arya, and even Bran and Rickon. You all used to tease me about being a lady and wanting to marry a prince from the songs.”

“But I haven’t since Castle Black. I haven’t since we left home. I know how much it means to you. I know what it means to you to have a good, loving husband. And there is nothing wrong with that. I would not do that to you,” He pleads with her as the exhaustion hits and he nearly falls into the stone next to his door. 

He does not know exactly what to expect but her snort is not it. The look on her face afterward though is enough to make him laugh and let go of the coldness in his tone. He has not heard that sound since they were children. He suspects she has not either. 

“Jon,” She sighs, painfully, like she’s worried about hurting him, “We both know I’m not that girl anymore. I’m sorry if that hurts you but I am glad not to be her. In most ways. I’m stronger now. But, being the person I am, the one I was meant to be, has cost me a great deal. In some ways it has helped me to be better but in many other ways it has left me broken. I’m afraid that one of the ways I am broken is this. I do not know if I can love a man. And I am not sure that I am the kind of woman a man could love any longer.”

Jon imagines that a punch to the gut would be less painful than listening to this. 

He thought that Arya growing up was painful, and it is, but this is a different kind of pain. 

“You can not believe that. Not truly,” he mumbles and runs a hand over his tired face.

Sansa looks him over with tired eyes before she leans back against the wall behind her. It’s an intimate thing he thinks, seeing her like this. Tired and with imperfect posture. Her hair is still braided though it’s slowly falling apart. There is dirt on her hands and in places on her face. 

Jon and the other fighting men have been afforded water to bathe but there was not enough for the women and children, so they had gone without. Jon knows that there would be enough for Sansa, and that if there isn’t one of the men would have given his up for her. If only she asked. She did not ask.

“I believe that the man I eventually marry will be someone good, true, honorable, gentle, strong, and brave. Or at least as near exists in the world after the wars. I believe that my big brother will make sure he does not hurt me. I believe that if he ever tries my little brother will see it and that my little sister will gut him alive.” They laugh together at the thought and how true it is. 

“I believe that any woman you or Bran marry and any man our sister ends up with will have to live up to my standards. My incredibly high standards. And I believe that is love. I love my family and that is the best thing I could have in my life. That’s enough.”

Jon swallows and nods.

Sansa smiles and says, “I should let you rest. You must be exhausted. Should I send someone to help you?”

“No. No, that’s okay. Should I find your lady’s maid?”

“No. I’ll be all right on my own.”

Jon nods and says, “Good night then.”

“Good night Jon.”

After her door closes Jon stays another few moments to listen to the sounds of her moving about the room before he goes into his own, ready to sleep for a million hours and trying to think of a way his sister might be happy. Maybe Arya or Bran will have some thoughts.


End file.
